Il Mio Principe
by X-Men.Alum
Summary: An original story I wrote as a prequel to an RP.: How are we supposed to get married one day if he doesn't love me? Will he just learn?


**A/N: Ok, first off I want to apologize for not updating either of my fics that I have out! My life's taken a turn for the hectic recently. College, break ups, my first job, etc. Life's catching up and at 19 I can only handle so much. ^^''' I promise I'll be re-watching Kick-Ass soon to make sure my spongy muse is filled to the bursting point with inappropriate Chris D'Amico thoughts. XD**

**Anyway, I'm sure you're all wondering what this is. It's actually a prequel one shot I wrote for an RP I'm doing with a good friend of mine. It's all original, minus the historical facts and people, and I wanted to put it up to at least give you guys proof I'm not dead nor do I plan on putting either of my fics on hiatus. They'll just be slow on the updates. Also, I wanted to know what you all think about it. I've edited bits and pieces from what I originally sent to my friend that way you guys get the gist of all the characters and their backgrounds. I've also added a bit of info about Harry and Irene to this little top section thingy.  
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**Both of my characters are sociopaths, though Irene Price is less of one at this age. She's the daughter of a family who is neck deep in a fictional, large New York mob. The mob boss is Harry Davis' father. He's refereed to as the Prince, Il Principe. Later in life, when his father dies he'll be refereed to as Il Re, The King. His best friend is Irene's older brother, James Price, who makes a VERY brief cameo in the story. Irene's grown up with Harry at her house and she's madly in love with him. She's spent most of her life tagging along behind him, trying to catch his eye.**

**I have pictures of Irene, Harry, and even James up on my profile. Those of you who watch Dexter will recognize that the boy I imagine playing Harry at this age is the same kid who played teen Dexter. That's because Twenty-two year old Harry I imagine being played by Michael C. Hall. **

**I'm obsessing over Dexter right now. I have problems.  
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**If I get any positive feedback on this, I'm may consider writing it out as a story. It's quick and not my best work but I like it a lot. SO enjoy. And I promise Villains Get Me Off will have a new chapter up soon!  
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The year was 1929. Al Capone had just offed seven guys on Valentines Day and the boy I loved had just turned 15.

Oh Harry Davis, I wish you would love me as much as I love you. Il Principe.

I sighed, continuing to brush my long brown hair, silently counting as I gazed into the mirror.

1, 2, 3, 4. 1, 2, 3, 4. 1, 2, 3, 4. 1, 2-

It's probably because I'm 13. I mean, there are so many other girls interested in him that he'd probably love. Much...prettier girls.

My gaze fell to my tiny, budding breast.

God, I looked like a little boy, no wonder he didn't love me.

How are we supposed to get married one day if he doesn't love me? Will he just learn? Can he learn something like that?

There was a loud tap at the door to my balcony.

I jumped, dropping my brush. It clattered to the floor.

Who the he-

Standing outside was Harry Davis himself. His lanky frame was dressed in only his pinstripe pants, a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up his tan arms to his elbows, and suspenders. His right hand held a cigarette to his lips. The only thing different about him then normal was the blood that looked as though it'd been sprayed all over his shirt.

I sighed.

He looked dreamy.

"Harry?" I whispered, rushing forward. I didn't even bother with a robe, leaving me only in my knee length blue night gown.

Upon opening the door, Harry just stood there, rocking on his heels. "Can I come in Irene?" His deep, normally emotionless brown eyes gazed into my green, his lips pursed.

There was a spark of something living in those brown eyes.

"Of course Harry, please." He brushed past me, a chill running through me as my skin brushed his.

Murder.*

"What happened Harry?" I whispered, taking a seat on my bed, patting the spot next to me.

He waved a hand dismissively, standing close to me though, closer than before then he ever has before. He blew out a puff of smoke.

"I killed for the first time tonight. It was..." He trailed off, hands waving around in the air as he looked for the right word.

"Invigorating?" I whispered, looking at him.

He stood before me, hand kneading my thighs as he leaned over. "Exactly. It was... fantastic. The blood bursting from his chest when my round pierced him. The heart must have kept pumping for a bit, cause I was covered in three sprays."

As he spoke, his hand had drifted up my leg, brushed my flat stomach before grasping my tiny, left breast, kneading it as he stared off into space.

"It covered everything, just... everything." He looked up at me, taking in my fluttering eyelids and parted lips. "All I could think about was that red dress you wore to my birthday, the long one you said your mother hated but was in style so you had to have it. It was the same color. The same, keen red that had me staring at you all night."

I let out a shaky breath. His hand still hadn't released my breast, but his soulless eyes gazed into mine, never relenting their hold on my soul.

I don't know who dove in first, but we met in the middle.

Our lips pressed hungrily to each others, tongues deviling into each others mouths. Harry's hand grasped my hair tightly, messing up the brushing I'd managed to finish. His mouth tasted like mints and cigarette, a wondrous flavor.

He pulled back moments later, saliva connecting our tongues. I heard something snap.

Our will power, to be exact.

He quickly dropped the cigarette onto my wood floor, stepping on it before pushing me back onto the bed. We were re-glued at the lips, but his hands hand drifted to my legs, lifting them around his waist, pushing my nightgown down so it pooled at my stomach.

Oh god. I couldn't think. I could barely breath. This was hell. It had to be because my skin and insides were on fire. I realized, the exact moment when his hands pushed under my dress to grasp my budding breast, that I didn't want to go to heaven. I wanted to be bad, I wanted to make people bleed and cover myself in the red liquid. Because if this was how it made Harry react, crazy, passionate, and out of control, I wanted to make sure he was like this all the time

We pulled back for air minutes later, our breathing heavy.

"Wow," I whispered, licking my lips, hoping to memorize that taste. Harry's flavor. I didn't want it to go.

Harry simply nodded, sitting back, dragging me up onto his lap. We simply gazed at one another, trying to calm our hearts quick beating.

"Be my gun moll**."

My heart jumped as I searched his face. "Harry-"

"I'm no taking no for an answer. I don't want anyone but you Irene Price. I never want any-"

I silenced him with another rough kiss.

"Only yours, Il mio Principe," I whispered softly.

He caressed my cheek, "La mia Principessa."

Our kissing restarted and Harry's suspenders were undone and his shirt hanging untucked from his form in a matter of minutes. My hands were deep in his hair, mussing up the gel that had once glued it back on his head.

A knock at the door stopped us from going any farther.

"Irene. Is everything ok?" James, my older brother.

I blinked, pulling away from Harry quickly. "I'm fine James! Just knocked my power tin from my dresser. No worries."

"Alright. Get to bed before Dad comes up and checks." I heard his footsteps lead away from the door and turned my attention back to the male in my room.

Harry rolled off my bed. He didn't bother to fix himself, leaving his shirt to hang open. "I'll see you in the morning. I want to make everything official as soon as possible." He lit another cigarette as he began backing up to my balcony door. "You belong to the Prince, doll face, anyone who tries anything is going to die."

I followed him, fixing my dress so my undergarments were covered. "Only yours Harry."

He leaned down as we stepped outside, biting my neck softly. "Mine." His breath tickled my ear, teasing me.

He threw a leg over the railing of the balcony, then scaled down the wall via the vines growing up the side of the manor.

I blew a kiss as he stepped into the gardens below. He responded with one of his own, then disappeared around the corner and out of my sight.

The wind blew threw my hair, the smell of mints and cigarettes filled my system.

"Il mio Principe."

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**A/N:Murder is 1930's slang for Wow, and a Gun Moll is a gangster's girlfriend.**

**Can't wait to hear your feedback on the one-shot**.


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